Little Moments
by burnedupasun
Summary: A collection of one-shots written for the prompts for 12 Days of Bethyl. Each prompt is chronological and set BETWEEN "Still" and "Alone" (assuming several weeks between those episodes). They can also be considered to fit in with my fic, "She's Breathing".
1. Gift

_I know it's been awhile again, but we've been constantly moving since we left the prison, and it's hard to get time to sleep, let alone to write in you. Sometimes I wonder why I bother, but I guess it's a habit I just can't break. __It keeps me distracted from thinking about how I miss Daddy, and-__Maybe it isn't so bad, getting the thoughts out, even if Daryl rolls his eyes at me sometimes._

_Yesterday he told me he'd start teaching me to hunt, but when I asked 'when' he just sort of grunted at me. He does that a lot, although he's been talking more since that night we burned down the shack all drunk on moonshine. You know, I kinda like when he talks, and not just because it reminds me I'm not alone. When he's not being all grumpy, he's really interesting, actually. He's good company. I know it sounds weird, but he is. I'm kinda glad that it was him I ended up with, after the prison. The other day, I even made him laugh a little! __He looked so-__ Which reminds me, last night I had this dream, and-_

"Here." The rough voice of the man who was now her only companion cut into Beth's thoughts and her hand stilled where she'd been scribbling away in the journal. The pen settled in the crease of the pages as she tipped her head back to look up the length of Daryl's body. He stood over her, even taller when she was sitting on the ground like this, but she didn't feel threatened at all. Not by him. They really had gotten a lot closer in the weeks since leaving the prison. A smile even tugged briefly at her lips just at the sight of him standing there, but then he thrust something out at her and she was immediately distracted.

"What's that?" Something rested on the palm of his hand, but she couldn't see it the way he was holding it just a little too high above her.

As if realizing that, Daryl scrubbed his hand over his head and then lowered his hand in offering, "S'for you. Here."

Beth sat up a little against the trunk of the tree, and she could see it now, nestled in his rough, dirty hand. It was a knife, with a white bone handle that stood out starkly against the grime of his palm. She could barely see the blade with it slotted neatly into a brown leather sheath, but it looked like it might do some damage."For me? But I already have a knife, Daryl."

His eyes held hers for a long moment, something in the depths of them that she didn't have enough time to translate before he shuttered it. "S'better than the one you have. Sharper. Stronger. Gonna have t' learn how t' be better with it, if you wanna learn to hunt, with me. Gonna need a good knife to skin what y' catch."

"Where did you find it?" Beth bit down on her lower lip, nibbling at it as she reached out  
>to gently take the knife from him.<p>

"On a walker that wasn't gettin' much use out of it anymore." Her fingers grazed against the palm of his hand, and the tremble she saw briefly in his hand was matched by faint shiver of something within her. It only lasted a second, and it was gone before she could even pinpoint it. It was far easier to focus on him, peering up at him with her eyes all wide and curious. "Is this like... a gift, Daryl?" Beth couldn't even remember the last time she'd gotten a gift from anyone. (No, that wasn't true. Christmas, and her Mama handing her that wrapped package with a warm smile on her lips as she eagerly urged Beth to open it up and Mama, Mama, _Mama_.)

"S'knife, that's all. Ain't no big deal." As soon as she had it in her hand he stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair with a shrug. He was acting like it was nothing, but Beth wasn't blind when it came to him. She'd seen him notice the pleasure on her face when she curled her fingers around the handle, and she'd seen his own brief hint of pride that she'd liked what he'd found for her.

Sliding it from the sheath, she ran her fingers down over the carved handle and then gave him a soft, warm smile. "Thank you. It's perfect."

"Yeah, well." He turned back around and headed to the fire, kicking up dirt to cover it before they headed on their way again. "S'nothing, like I said."

But she knew it wasn't nothing. She _knew_, the way she always knew when it came to him.

That day, even as she followed close behind him as always and paid special attention to every lesson about spotting tracks and marks in the dirt, Beth kept her eyes peeled for other things as well. Whenever she thought he wasn't looking, she'd dart quickly to the side and pinch off a sprig of something, or a couple leaves of something else. Sometimes she thought he saw her, but when she did she'd play it off, making up a story about how she'd thought she'd seen tracks or a squirrel or some flowers or something. He never seemed to question it, though she knew he was far from dumb. Perceptive as heck, in fact.

That night when they found an abandoned one-room cabin (really more of a shed in her mind) to settle in, Beth came up next to Daryl. He was sitting by their small fire and cleaning up the rabbit he'd shot earlier for their dinner. (She hadn't been allowed to use the bow yet, although he had showed her what rabbit tracks looked like. Later, he'd caught her muttering to herself about _offset bounds_ and _small depressions_, and she'd caught a hint of a smile on his lips before he turned away.)

"Here." She waited until he looked up, and then stretched out her hand to reveal a handkerchief, inside which she'd collected what looked like a number of leaves and sprigs, and even a couple roots and berries. "For you. For the rabbit, and for dinner."

Daryl studied her offering for a long moment before his gaze lifted to fix on hers. There it was again, that faint tremble of _something_ inside, flashing through his eyes and echoing in the pit of her belly before it disappeared.

"This a gift, Greene?" His voice was gruff, but she just smiled as she leaned over and set the handkerchief in his lap.

"Nah." She turned away and headed back to the wall where she'd been sitting a moment ago, but halfway there she glanced over her shoulder with a smile, and said in an easy echo of his earlier words, "Just some herbs, that all. Ain't no big deal, Dixon." Beth dropped to the floor, her eyes on his and a playful little smile lingering around her lips as she breathed out, "S'nothing, like I said."

But it wasn't. And maybe they both knew it, this time.


	2. Snow

Daryl was striding silently through the woods with his crossbow in his hands, when Greene's bright voice cut through his thoughts. He was almost grateful, to be honest. He'd been having one of those times when his thoughts ranged back to the prison (the screams and the chaos) and the people he'd failed and lost , like the father of the girl who had been pacing beside him, walking with extra long strides to keep up.

"Daryl, look!"

At least she had been keeping up, before she'd stopped for something. Daryl turned to look and found her crouched down right beside a bush. Her blond hair was in it's usual ponytail (with a tiny little braid on the side that he kept wanting to tug on) and it was swinging gently against the back of her yellow he took a step towards her she turned to look over her shoulder to fix him with those big blue eyes, and flashed him an excited grin.

(For just a moment he felt something similar to that look go right through him, excitement in heat form, curling through his body for just a second before it faded.)

"What is it?" He asked, his voice rumbling a bit in his chest as he came up behind her to look down.

"It's rabbit tracks!" She pointed to the ground, paused and then glanced back up at him, looking hopeful and unsure at the same time. "Right?"

His brow furrowed and he crouched down next to her. Their knees bumped (there it was again, that weird feeling, a quick flush of heat) and he peered down at the tracks she'd spotted. He knew she was right with one glance, but when a lesson presented itself, he wasn't gonna squander it. Especially since she'd been proving to have a knack for this, ever since he'd agreed to start showing her.

"Why d'you think it's a rabbit?" He nodded down at the ground, inviting her to tell him.

He was distracted for a moment by the way her nose crinkled up in thought, but pushed his gaze back down when she pointed, "Cause of the way the tracks are? It's got the two small front feet and the two bigger back feet, with that little drag to it. _Offset bound_, see, I remember!"

"Yeah, y' do." It wasn't quite a 'good job' out loud, but it was in his expression as he nodded at her and rose to his feet. "C'mon. Let's see if we can track it, then."

He led the way in the new direction, occasionally nudging away bushes to show her where the tracks went. He had been keeping mostly quiet again, caught up in the hunt, when Beth's voice broke in. "You know, I saw this show on the Discovery Channel once. About these rabbits that turn white in the winter. You ever heard of that?"

Daryl grunted, and then added after a moment, "Snowshoe hare."

"Yeah!" She turned to him and shit, that bright look on her face was distracted. He didn't even understand why. "Did you see that episode or something?"

"Ain't never watched no Discovery Channel." Daryl made a face and ran his hand through his hair, before adding a little less roughly, "Didn't need to, anyway. Too busy livin' out in it. We ain't got snowshoe hares down here, but up North a bit. Never saw any myself."

He didn't tell her that he'd read about it in a book, once. That he'd gone to the library, of all places, when he was a kid, a whole book about North American wildlife. He'd gotten into hunting at a young age, and he'd been curious, but reading books wasn't something his Dad or Merle would've approved of. They'd have said it was for pussies, even if it was about hunting. It had been cool, though. He'd seen pictures of black bears and brown bears, and studied the differences between mule deer, whitetail deer, and blacktail deer. And, of course, rabbits.

"I just think it's really cool," Beth said after a moment, easy with her conversation as always, "How would you hunt one like that, if it blended into the snow?"

"Still makes tracks, don't it?" Daryl gestured down at the dirt, "Don't usually hunt in the snow too much down here, but sometimes it's even easier to see the tracks in it."

Beth chuckled as she ducked under a branch. A twig got caught in her hair and he slowed with her as she struggled to get it free, still chatting away, "I'd probably get distracted. I used to _love_ snow. We almost never got it, so it was like a holiday when we did, you know? Like Christmas. I'd bundle up and run outside and make snow angels. We never got enough to make a snowman, though, but I was _really_ good at snow angels."

Somehow she was only managing to get the twig even more twisted into her hair and finally Daryl moved without thinking. He came up beside her and reached down, gently unraveling the little stick from where it was caught in her silken blonde strands. It was only when she looked up at him with a little smile that he realized how close she was, and how big and blue her eyes seemed today.

"Ain't never made snow angels," he remarked roughly. Even talking was better than thinking about Beth's big doe eyes. "Not very manly."

Beth surprised him by snorting. "That's silly, my Daddy used to make snow angels with me all the time."

He saw the pain go across her eyes the moment she said that, and he wished he could wind back time even if only enough to take back what he'd said, to stop himself from reminding her of her father. It killed him whenever he saw that pain in her eyes and knew that in some way it was his fault, for not finding a way to save Hershel.

Daryl would have said anything, to stop her from looking like that, which was probably why he opened his mouth and started, "Tell y' what. If it snows... I promise I'll let you try'n convince me to make a snow angel. But only one." He frowned at her, and said roughly, "And you'll have to convince me, first."

Just like that the pain disappeared from her sweet face and she was all sunshine smiles again. "_Deal_. Just you watch, Daryl, I will have you convinced in a heartbeat!"

He didn't doubt it. As he pulled the twig from her hair at last and tossed it to the ground, his fingers briefly grazed her forehead. For whatever reason there was a faint pink flush on Beth's cheeks, and it instantly put an image in his mind: Beth, bundled up for winter, a little hat tugged down over her hair, her blue eyes all bright and shining as she fell back onto the clean white snow, her cheeks all flushed pink by the cold as she grinned up at him and laughed and waved her arms to make the angel wings he was pretty sure already belonged to her...

Yeah. He had a feeling Beth Greene would have no trouble convincing him to make a snow angel. Or do pretty much anything at all, to be honest.

The thought had him scratching at his head with an arrow as he pulled back and said gruffly, "Come on, Greene. Let's go track that damn rabbit."


	3. Peace

"The stars are so _bright_ tonight." Beth closed her journal in her lap and tipped her head back to look up at the stars through the canopies of the trees above them. "It reminds of back on the farm, how you could just see _every_ star at night."

At first she heard Daryl just grunt in reply (a normal response), but then he surprised her by adding, "S'better now, with all the cities dark. Can see more."

"Mhm." Beth looked down at him across the small fire, where he was sitting with his back against the tree, one leg stretched out and the other knee drawn up. "Do you know the names for them?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Know the North star, for navigating by. And Orion, the hunter." He gave her that faint smile that was really just a quirk of the corner of his lip (one of her top favorite Daryl smiles and yes, there's a ranking system). "Always liked that one."

Beth slips her journal back into her bag, and looks over at him. In the last couple days, they've been making these sweet sort of overtures to each other. First it was the little gifts like her knife and the herbs she'd gotten him, then it was Daryl showing her how to track, and yesterday they'd had this sweet moment when they'd playfully teased about making snow angels. She kinda wanted to do something else, to reach out to him again. Beth had been finding that she likes having this new connection to him, this new sort of... friendship, or whatever it is.

"Do you wanna know some of the names? And the stories?" Beth bit her lip, and then ventured shyly, "Cause I know some, I could tell you."

He studied her for a long moment (making her skin prickle a bit for some reason), and then gave a slow nod. "Alright, I guess."

That was pretty much a resounding yes, by Daryl Dixon standards, so Beth got up and moved around the fire towards him. "C'mere," she said as she sat next to him and then shifted down to lay beside him with her head on the grass.

"What're you doing?" She could see him looking down at her with a quizzical expression on his face that made her giggle.

"C'mon, Daryl! Lay down. You can see the stars better, like this."

He sighed, but after a moment she heard him shifting, and felt him lay down next to her. His arm pressed just lightly to hers, and neither of them made a move to pull it away. After a few seconds, Beth pointed up at the sky and traced out a shape. "That one is Cassiopeia. In Greek myth, she was put there as punishment for saying that her daughter was more beautiful than the sea nymphs. Which I think is kind of awful, honestly. Who would punish a mother, for saying their daughter was beautiful?"

Daryl scratched at his head with a 'humph', before stretching his arm back to tuck his hand under his head. After a moment, he murmured, "The Greeks were kinda dicks, weren't they?"

Beth just laughed. "Yeah, sometimes." She examined the sky for another moment, and then pointed out a different constellation, "That one is called Lyra, and see that one, over there? It's called Aquila. They're only visible in the summer. There's a Japanese myth, about the principal stars in each constellation. I read it in a book, once."

She trailed off to look at him, and though Daryl's gaze was fixed on the sky above, after a moment he grunted and asked, "What was it?"

Beth smiled to herself at the hint of curiosity she heard in his voice. "The story goes that Vega was a celestial goddess, who fell in love with a mortal, Altair. When her father finds out, he's so angry that he forbids it, and he puts them both in the sky, separated by the Celestial River. That's the Milky Way."

After a moment, Daryl made a low sound she took to be discontent at the story, so she looked over at him a bit and added, "Supposedly every year, on the umm... 7th night of the 7th moon, there's a bridge over the celestiel river, and they're reunited." Beth sighed as she leaned her head back onto the ground. "I think it's romantic, but also really sad. To be in love, and to be forced apart like that. Don't you think so?"

Silence filled the air for a long, long moment, before Daryl shrugged gently beside her. "Dunno if I believe in that."

"In what? Love?" Another shrug, and Beth frowned. Some part of her was bothered, knowing he didn't believe in love. Before she opened her mouth though, she thought back to what he'd told her that night, drunk on moonshine, all the things about his family... and she felt a pang inside at the growing idea that maybe he'd just never _known_ love.

"Well." Beth spoke carefully, looking up at the sky and not at him. "I've never been in love before, so I don't know if it's real or not, but... I think it is. I know I loved my Daddy and Mama, and Shawn, and I love Maggie, too. And I know my Daddy loved Maggie's Mama, and my Mama after that, and ... and I like to think they're together again, now."

He was silent, but that was okay. Beth had gotten used to his silence, and it didn't bother her now. Silence wasn't always a bad thing with Daryl. Sometimes it meant he was thinking, sometimes she thought it meant he was just not sure what so say.

After a moment, she went on softly, "I think they're at peace, wherever they are. I used to think they would go to heaven, but I dunno. I just think they're together, and happy, and peaceful. Maybe they're together looking at the stars somehow, too. That'd be nice. Cause this is really peaceful, don't you think?"

Finally he nodded, maybe more comfortable now that she wasn't talking about completely sad things. "It's nice."

"Yeah." Beth settled back against the grass and shifted a little closer to him, just enough that their arms pressed together, and her leg nudged lightly against his. It really was peaceful. Beautiful, too. When the song popped into her mind, it was almost completely random. She wasn't sure why that song of all songs came filtering into her mind. It was warm out, and though there was a crisp hint of night-time cool to the air, it was nowhere close to winter or Christmas, after all. But there was just something about the sky and the quiet and the darkness (and Daryl) that brought it up inside of her.

Without questioning it anymore, she started to softly sing, "_Silent night..."_

"You know it's not Christmas, right?" Daryl's voice broke into her song and cut her off.

"Daryl, shh." She looked over at him, eyes narrowed, until he rolled his eyes. With him quiet, she started again, "_Silent night, holy..._"

"Gonna call all the walkers to us, like that."

Beth huffed and went silent. She stared up at the stars again, but the peaceful moment felt like it was gone. Or it almost did, until...

"Didn't mean y' needed to stop." His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper, but she heard it, and smiled.

"_Silent night, holy night, all it calm, all is bright, round yon virgin, mother and child. Holy infant, so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace..._"


	4. Stocking

They had been on the move for days in a row without really stopping, except for a few hours of sleep outside on the hard ground. The last two days it had been raining, and Daryl knew they had to find someplace better. He might have been able to weather little sleep and endless rain and the bare-minimum when it came to food (and pretty much everything), but it wasn't fair to Beth.

It wasn't that he thought she was too weak for it, cause she definitely wasn't. In fact she hadn't complained once at all and she hadn't stopped moving either; just trudging after him determinedly even as the rain continued to come down until everything they both owned was soaked and muddy. No, it wasn't that she was complaining or he thought she couldn't handle it; it was that _he_ couldn't handle seeing her like that anymore. She deserved better, and since he had long since decided it was his job to take care of her, it was his job to give her better.

Following his instincts had led them into sight of a snug little wooden cabin. It was nicer than the hunter's cabins he was used to, Daryl could tell that at first glance. There was a neat little driveway leading up to it, and flowers in front that had gone wild without anyone to tend to them. Maybe it had been some couple's little retreat in the forest, back before things had gone bad.

Whatever it had been, he'd taken one look at it and known it was perfect for Beth. It was the kinda place she deserved, at least for a night, or a few days. (Much as he liked the sight of it, he knew they probably couldn't stay for long. They couldn't stay anywhere for long.)

By now, they could clear out any building without even needing to speak instructions to each other. He'd only had to really show her the routine once before she caught on. One of the things he'd learned about Beth in their time together was that she was a quick learner. She remembered almost everything. Together they came up the steps to the little cabin, and reached the doors. Daryl shaded his hand to peer in the window, seeing only dim shapes beyond. With a nod to Beth, he signaled to the doors and stepped back, raising his bow. Beth moved in front of him and knocked on the door with the base of her knife; once, twice, and then she paused.

There was only silence beyond, and at his nod she knocked one more time and then pulled the door open, quickly slipping behind it and leaving him standing there with his bow at the ready. When nothing came out, he signaled to her,and together they stepped slowly inside. It was a small cabin, small enough that he could take in most of it at a quick glance, especially because the whole bottom floor was one open space; a snug little kitchen, an eating area, and a little living room area with a worn couch, a small wood stove, and a half-sized bookcase full of books. Daryl swept the room in one easy movement before coming to a pause at the bottom of the staircase.

His gaze flicked to Beth to signal upwards, but the sight of her brought him pause. She still had the knife up and at the ready, but she was looking around the place with this expression on her face that he couldn't quite describe. It was the same way he'd seen her look at a flower, or a butterfly, but also the same way she looked at him sometimes when he did something sorta nice, like when he gave her that knife or when he said she could maybe convince him to make a snow angel if it snowed. It was the way she'd looked when he'd found that shed full of moonshine and told her what it was. It was the way she'd looked a few nights ago, when he'd told her not to stop singing that Christmas song under the stars.

It was like she was happy. Like she was seeing the beauty in something. Or so he guessed, because he didn't think he'd ever looked at anything the way she did. (He didn't know that sometimes, he looked at _her_ like that, only in quick little bursts like he might get caught.) Whenever he saw that look on her face, it always made him reexamine whatever she was looking at, as if he could see the beauty in whatever it was, too. He did it now, peering around carefully, trying to pinpoint what it was that she saw, but it just looked like a cabin to him. Cozy and neat, but still just a cabin. Maybe he just wasn't designed to see things the way she was. Maybe a dirty redneck like him with a broken past just couldn't see things that way.

(For just a moment his gaze landed on her, turning around with that _expression_ on her face, and he thought if anything looked nice right now, it was Beth, all pure and bright even when she was covered in mud and soaked clothes. Something like that look was in his eyes again, but he didn't even know it.)

He cleared his throat to get her attention (and to push those thoughts away) and nodded up the stairs. "C'mon. Prob'ly a bedroom up here." Daryl moved swiftly and silently up the stairs, nudging open the door and stepping quickly inside to see that he had been right. The second floor contained a small bedroom with a little full-sized bed tucked against one wall, under a big window. There was a small dresser and one door beside it, cracked open to reveal a small bathroom.

With his bow still lifted, Daryl moved to clear the bathroom, even sweeping open the shower curtain and checking behind the small closet door to make sure no walkers lurked inside. For once, they'd gotten lucky. Not a single walker in sight; the place was clear.

And then he heard a squeal from the bedroom outside.

He burst through the door without hesitation, crossbow raised, ready to sight on whatever had scared Beth and make sure it didn't get a damn chance to touch her… but all he saw was Beth on the floor by the dresser, her legs stretched out in front of her and the widest grin he'd ever seen on her face.

"Daryl!" She exclaimed his name brightly (it _sounded_ so bright, from her lips) but the excitement on her face turned briefly to confusion when she saw him standing there all tense with his fingers itching to press the trigger.

"The hell you screaming for, girl?" Daryl growled out the words as he lowered the bow to the ground. He couldn't help the bite in voice. His heart was still racing from the fear that she'd been under attack, and it was better to be gruff with her than focus on how much it terrified him to think about her being hurt. Daryl wasn't used to worrying about someone else the way he did her.

But she just looked up at him, all bright blue eyes and sweet smiles (somehow looking clean and pure even with her hair soaking wet and dirty)and she squealed again, "_Stockings_!"

"What?" He blinked down at her in confusion. It was only then that he noticed she had the bottom drawer of the dresser open, and as he watched she pulled out a pair of those long knee socks, stockings he guessed, red and green striped like the ones you saw people wear sometimes around Christmas.

"Oh just _look_ at them! They're so warm and _clean_ and cute, and oh lord, I haven't had clean socks in _weeks_, Daryl!"

He knew he'd never seen anyone go into raptures over a pair of stockings before, but then, he'd also never seen anyone like Beth Greene. Cause there she was, sprawled out on the middle of the floor, pulling off her boots and tearing off her dirty, wet, muddy socks to toss them aside like she'd never been so happy to get something off her before. All he could do was watch in baffled amazement as she slid the first thick colorful stocking onto her foot, and… And lord, did she have to react like _that_? Her head was tipped back and her eyes shut and he was pretty sure if she was a cat, she'd have been purring.

(He already knew that if Beth was a cat, she'd be the prettiest little blonde cat ever, with big blue eyes and the sweetest disposition. The kind that followed you around and was always ready to curl up in your lap, but was also just about the best mouse catcher around. Not that he'd thought about that before, or anything.)

Just when the look on her face started to make him almost uncomfortable, she just looked up at him and _laughed_. She pulled the other stocking up onto her foot and fell back onto the floor, stretching her legs up into the air and wiggling her toes and just laughed and laughed and _laughed_, until he almost felt like laughing too.

"Ain't never seen no one get so excited about socks before," Daryl says, his voice rough even though he felt a faint tug at the corner of his lips.

"Cause you ain't never seen anyone try socks like these!" Beth exclaimed, teasing him back with a surprisingly good mimicry of his speech pattern. As he watched, she reached into the drawer and pulled out a pair of men's socks, bright red but thick and warm and clean. "Your turn."

He frowned. "M'fine."

"Nope. Not taking that for an answer." She pointed down at the ground. "Now you get right over here, Mr. Dixon, take off those boots, and change your socks." Beth flashed him a playful grin. "Don't make me wrestle those boots off you!"

He snorted. "Like you could."

"I'd _try_!" Beth laughed. "Just watch me."

He knew she would. But he was already moving to sit down next to her and take off his boots, and he knew why he was doing that, too. Because it was Beth, and because this would make her happy, and he would do near about anything to see that look on her face again. Especially when she was giving that look right at _him_.


	5. Believe

_We've decided to stay here for a few days if we can, journal. Daryl found this perfect little cabin, and it's just so snug and warm with a fire going (but only at night, so no one sees the smoke, he says). There wasn't a lot of food here, but Daryl says there's lots of game around, and that we can go out hunting and catch some stuff, and he actually looked almost excited (well, the Daryl version of excited) when I told him I could probably cook up a stew in the fireplace, if we caught some rabbit. It's just... It's nice, that's all. I know we won't be able to stay here too long, I know it's probably won't last, but it's nice for now, and that's enough for me._

"What do you think everyone else is doing right now?" Beth slowly closed her journal, and looked across the room at Daryl, who was tending to the fire. They'd covered all the windows so no light could get out, but he was keeping it low still just in case.

He didn't respond at first, just grunted, and then turned to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Our family," Beth replied to his silent question. (She was getting really good at understanding him and his shrugs and grunts and eyebrow raises, although there were still plenty of times that he mystified her.) "Do you think they've all found places like this, to stay in? Do you think they're safe?"

Daryl grunted, and Beth frowned a little at the furrow in his brow.

"I think they are," she said firmly, denying the doubt she saw in his eyes. "Maybe they're not all in places like this, but I think they're okay. I bet Carl is with Rick... And Judy too, maybe. I bet Maggie is with Glenn, and they're looking for me. I just know they are. I think they're all okay, you know? The kids, and Maggie, and Glenn, and Carl and Rick and Michonne and Carol and Tyreese and Sasha and Bob..." She stared into the fire, a faint smile on her face. "Maybe some of them have even found each other. Maybe they're looking for us, you know?"

When Beth finally looked over at Daryl again, he was frowning as he poked the fire, a bit more roughly than needed. Worrying at her lower lip, Beth asked hesitantly, "Daryl?"

He sighed. "Dunno how you do that."

"Do what?" She scooted forward on the floor a bit, peering over at him.

"Just... how you manage t' sound like you really believe all that."

"Cause I do, Daryl."

He turned to look at her, studying her face now as if he thought he might see a lie. "How?"

Beth shook her head at him. "How could I not?"

Suddenly he turned back to the fire with a huff. "Cause ain't nothin' givin' you reason to, that's why." He threw a piece of wood onto the fire hard enough to make Beth jump slightly. "Cause everythin' we had is gone now. The prison, our family, your Dad. How can y' believe, after all that?"

Beth saw him flinch, maybe at the realization that he'd mentioned her father. She set her journal gently aside. Slowly and carefully she rolled onto her knees and crawled towards him, eyes on those angel wings framed by the flickering flames. "Because I'm alive," Beth said simply, as she knelt down beside him in front of the fire. "Because we're both alive, and we're together. And that gives me hope, for everyone else." She picked up the poker and gently nudged some of the logs into place where they'd scattered from his rough toss. "I mean, I'm with you. That's enough to make anyone have hope."

From beside her, she heard him snort, and a smile tugged briefly at her lips, "Don't snort, I mean it. Daryl, I probably would have died, without you. Escaping the prison with you, that was luck, for me. Or fate, maybe."

Daryl kept his gaze on the fire, but his voice was low as he replied, "You wouldn't have died."

"Probably. Maybe." She didn't seem bothered by that, mostly because it hadn't happened. "But I didn't, and a lot of that is because have you. You can track, and hunt, and you're _teaching_ me, even though you don't have to. You're helping me survive, and that's so good." Beth hesitated and then looked over at him, drinking in the sight of his profile and the way the light of the fire flickered across it, making him look more broodier at times, but also more warm and welcoming at others. "And don't get too upset, but the truth is, you're not bad company to have around, either."

The slight joke was to lighten the mood, and she knew she'd achieved it when she saw that faint little flicker at the corner of his lips. It gave her the strength to go on softly, "I keep on believing, because being with you gives me hope. Cause I believe in you, and in you and me, here, alive," she said softly, "Believing it us makes it easier to believe that everyone else is alive and safe, too. Gives me hope."

He grunted, but it was softer this time, and after a moment he turned to look at her. He didn't say anything, just looked into her eyes long and deep, and Beth was surprised to briefly see a hint of that same belief deep in his dark eyes as he looked at her. But just as she saw it, Daryl looked away, and it was gone. Or hidden. It was hidden, but it had been there. She'd seen it.

And she couldn't help wondering if maybe Daryl Dixon was beginning to believe, too.


	6. Joy

"_Beth_." Daryl bent over her where she was curled up in a pile of blankets by the fire. Despite the availability of a big bed upstairs, she somehow always seemed to end up asleep down here every time she'd slept in the two days they'd been here. Naps or night time, it didn't matter. She said that she just wasn't used to the bed anymore, but once when she'd come down half asleep to curl up next to the fire (and him), she'd admitted as she drifted off that it was lonely up there, away from him.

So now when she slept and he took watch, they were always together. Usually he would wake her after four hours, and let her watch why he rested right there on the couch or the floor beside her. Tonight, though, his four hours weren't nearly up before he woke her.

"Beth. Wake up, Beth."

She blinked blearily up at him, and Daryl was struck for a moment by how she looked like this, all hazy with sleep and framed by a halo of blonde hair.

"S'matter? S'my time for watch?"

"No, it's only been two hours," he murmured, gently tugging at her blanket. The urge hit him to just scoop her up into his arms and carry her to the thing he wanted to show her, like an overeager kid on Christmas, or something.

(Not that he really knew what it was like to be an overeager kid on Christmas. Not from experience, anyway, though sometimes lately when he was around her, he kinda felt like he might be able to guess what that was like.)

He resisted the urge, but barely. It was easier when she suddenly got this worried look in her eyes, and sat up amid her cocoon of blankets. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

"Shhh... Nothing's wrong." His hand briefly squeezed her arm before he pulled back and rose back up to his feet from his crouch, to offer her his hand. "C'mon. Got somethin' I wanna show you. Found it while I was out patrollin'."

He took her hand and tugged her to her feet. For just a moment he realized his fingers wanted to linger, wanted to hold her hand and tug her along after him. There was a warmth in his hand from where they touched, gently filling his whole body until he abruptly and awkwardly pulled his fingers away.

"C'mon," Daryl said again, gruff this time but still obviously pleased with whatever it was he'd found. He waited just long enough for her to put on her shoes (it was the most they'd risk, changing clothes for bed just wasn't safe when they might have to run at any moment) and led the way out of the little cabin with his bow in hand.

As they moved silently through the forest (he was pleased to find that even half-asleep, she knew how to walk quietly like he'd taught her), Daryl murmured softly, "Thought I'd heard something, off over this way. Turned out right, but 'cept instead of anything bad, I found... This."

He trailed off just as he pushed carefully through a couple bushes, and then stepped aside to reveal his surprise to Beth. It was a small little pond, fed by a pretty little waterfall that trickled down from some rocks; the end-point of a little stream. Nothing big, just small but beautiful, and peaceful too.

(It reminded him of her, though that was nothing he'd admit out loud. Just like he wouldn't admit to the hopeful anticipation in his eyes as he looked over at her, trying to read her face and decide if she was pleased.)

It didn't take him long to figure out just how right he'd been to bring her here. For a few moments she just blinked, taking it all in, and then a warm smile curved up her full lips. "Oh, _Daryl_. It's so pretty! Oh, it's just so _lovely_!" She walked right to the edge and hesitated only a moment before toeing off her boots.

"What're you doin'?" His slight pride turned to confusion as she dipped her toes in the water, but Beth just looked at him and softly laughed.

"I'm gonna go in, that's what I'm doing."

"S'middle of the night!" Daryl looked up at the dark sky, as if somehow she might have forgotten and needed reminding.

"So? Daryl, I haven't had a swim in forever. You think I even remember the last time I got to rinse my hair?"

He looked baffled by her and yet, a tiny part of him was amused. Pleased, even. She was so much feistier than he'd ever have guessed, back when he barely knew her. She had this way of setting her mind on something and just _going_ for it, full throttle, until she got what she wanted. Like she was right now, down by the edge of the lake... it was only after a moment of watching her that he realized that she was stripping off her jeans, right there in front of him.

"Beth!" He hissed her name at her.

"What?" Lord, why was that little over-the-shoulder smile so damn distracting?

"What're you doin'?" He tried to sound scandalized, but his voice just came out a bit gruff.

"Told you, I'm going for a swim." She folded up her jeans and set them aside, and for a moment he was acutely aware of her long, pale legs, and how surprisingly shapely they were stretching out from underneath that yellow shirt, and the little hint of white underwear she had on. "Don't worry, I'll keep my shirt on, okay? Just hate swimming in jeans, they get so heavy."

He watched, mesmerized and trying to act like he wasn't as she just waded in the water. Even the way she shivered as she felt how cold it was didn't seem to stop her, and before he knew it she was up to her waist and lowering herself down into it with a blissful smile. He couldn't look away. She sank down under the water, and when she came back up he realized that the moon was hanging perfectly in the sky, as if it had been waiting just for this. It light her up, shimmering on her slick blonde hair, illuminating the way her shirt now clung to her thin but slightly curvy body.

He shifted in place, uncomfortable, and yet still unable to look away from her. When her soft voice called out to him, it took him a moment to focus on the words through his distraction.

"You should join me."

He shook his head instantly.

"C'mon, Daryl. The water is amazing, I know you'll love it." She didn't mention him needing a shower and for that, Daryl was grateful. He didn't really need the reminder of how dirty he was, especially when he was face to face with the complete purity that was Beth Greene right now. (He didn't need to think about that contrast, or how representative it was of the two of them.)

"Tomorrow," he agreed roughly (if only because he knew she'd keep pushing), scuffing his foot on the ground as he watched her. "You enjoy it. S'your treat. I'll keep watch."

It wasn't like he was gonna complain. She just looked so happy, rinsing off her hair, spinning around in the water, soaking every inch of herself. When she swam to the waterfall, he found himself following her, moving along the edge of the little pond. He was glad that he did, because when she stood there and reached up to touch the rocks, and the water ran over her fingers and splashed down on her head, her face lit up with this expression that had to be the brightest, happiest thing he'd ever seen.

It was joy, pure and simple. Complete and utter unadulterated joy.

And she deserved every moment of it.


	7. Elf

They had been in the cabin for almost four days now, and so far, it was still safe. Sometimes they saw walkers outside, but most of the time they didn't get too close, and when they did Daryl took care of them. He was always prepared, always ready, always noticed the sounds of the cans clanging a second or two before she did. He was out there right now, checking their perimeter, as Beth put herself in charge of making dinner. It was something she'd done every night since they'd found this cabin, and it was beginning to be something she sort of looked forward to.

Some days, she and Daryl would go out hunting and come back with a rabbit, or some squirrels. Other days they had to make do with their small stash of canned food. Today was another rabbit day, and those were her favorites, because they were the most filling. (And because despite what Daryl liked to say, squirrel did _not_ taste like chicken.)

Her plan had been to add some canned veggies and make a rabbit stew tonight as a surprise for him. The problem was that the cans she'd spotted of carrots and potatoes were up on the very top of the cabinets in the kitchen, and well, Beth was short. She stood beneath the cabinets hopping and jumping for several minutes, to no avail. All it accomplished was to make her feel absolutely ridiculous. Then she pulled over a chair, but as soon as she stepped on it, it began to wobble. All she could think about was what an _idiot_ she'd be, hurting herself by falling off a freaking chair of all things, in the middle of a world full of walking dead people.

Daryl would probably have laughed at her all night. (And then, a dark voice whispered in the back of her mind, he'd have to leave her behind, cause a girl like that would be way too weak to keep up with him.)

Which left her trying to pull herself up on the counter on her knees and strain again for the cans, which were still just out of reach. She was mid-stretch, shirt riding up her back and cheeks flushed with exertion, when she heard the sound of the door opening behind her. Beth turned, eyes wide and her whole face pink with embarrassment as Daryl stood just inside the doorway and watched her.

He might not have said much, ever, but Beth was getting good at reading the expressions on his face, and she knew this one. He was _amused_. The corner of his mouth was just faintly turned up, and the rare sight made her feel oddly warm for just a moment before she furrowed her brow at him and tried to look fierce.

"What?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow as he came slowly closer. "The hell you tryin' to do, girl?"

Determined not to look as embarrassed as she felt, Beth tipped her chin up and then pointed to the top of the cabinets. "I was going to get those cans of potatoes and carrots down and add them to the stew." The strength in her voice softened for a moment as she admitted, "It was supposed to be a surprise, for you. But I can't _reach_ them, and the chair was all wobbly, and I thought I might fall and hurt myself, like an idiot, and you'd have to leave me behind or something."

He surveyed her for a moment, and then said gruffly, "You ain't an idiot. Especially not for bein' smart enough to know not to risk that. C'mere."

"What?" Before she could look at him, he was giving her an answer. His hands gripped her waist, easily spanning it as he lifted her off the counter and onto the floor.

"Alright, now I'm gonna lift y' up and you're gonna get it, okay?" She looked over her shoulder at him in surprise, and saw another hint of a smile on his lips. "Just don't drop no cans on my head. Ain't worried about lifting a little midget like you, but I don't need nothin' fallin' on my head and knockin' me out."

"I'll be _careful_!" Beth turned to the cabinets and snorted, "And I'm not an midget!"

He lifted her up, and she was surprised to hear a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Maybe an elf, then. Sure are small as one."

Beth would have shot a come back at him, honestly, but she was trying to focus. On getting the cans, of course, not on how tightly Daryl was gripping her hips and legs, or how warm and strong his arms felt around her, or how his face was so damn close the her lower back, where her shirt had rode up to reveal a hint of her bare skin.

No, she was definitely focused on the cans above, on stretching to reach them and _carefully_, so she wouldn't knock them onto his head. When she grabbed both of them, Beth gave a victorious shout. "I got 'em!"

That chuckle of his rumbled through his chest again as he brought her back down, and for a moment Beth was pressed back against him with his arms around her waist. For a moment, she felt her breath hitch... and then he let go. She turned slowly to face him, a proud smile on her lips as she held up both cans.

She thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, something both warm and awkward at the same time. But then it was shuttered as he stepped back, that little quirk to his lips as he teased, "Good job, elf."

Beth's eyes narrowed at him, even as she grinned. "Hey! I'm not an elf, Mr. Dixon."

"Gonna get you some little shoes, with bells on them," Daryl remarked as he turned back to the door, picking up his crossbow and turning the lock. "Then I'll never lose ya." He paused for just a moment, his hand on the door, and then turned to look over his shoulder at her. "Hey."

In the middle of using her knife to open the top of the can of potatoes, Beth paused and glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

His brow furrowed and she saw him scuff his foot briefly on the ground before he went on in a low voice, "Ain't gonna leave you. Even if y' hurt yourself. Okay?"

For just a second, she watched him, memorizing the expression on his face so she could try and pick it apart later. Then she nodded, and a soft pleased smile curved across her lips as she replied simply, "Okay."

Then she turned back to the can, pulling the lid off with a sharp jerk of her knife. As she looked down at the potatoes inside, Beth giggled.

"What now?"

Beth poured the potatoes into the pot, along with the rabbit she'd cut up earlier, and flashed him a grin. "You know shoes with bells on them would attract _all_ the walkers. Don't you know anything about being stealthy, Mr. Dixon?"

He leaned back against the door, arms crossed, and to anyone else he would have looked as cranky as always, but Beth could see the hint of a smirk on his lips as he teased back, "Hush, little elf."

She hushed, but it was only for a few minutes, as always. Beth didn't think he'd minded, anyway. She saw the way he came closer to the kitchen, drawn by her laughter and animated stories to sit at the table while she cooked. And she saw the way he smiled that barely-there smile at her, when she joked about him getting her a little elf hat to wear with her jingly shoes.

Heck, if it made him smile as much as he was tonight, Beth figured she'd let him call her 'elf' as long as he wanted to.


	8. Mistletoe

Though they were still staying in the cabin, they often went out on their runs together. Part of it was for safety; they were stronger as a pair than separated, for obvious reasons. Part of it, though Daryl wouldn't have admitted it out loud and he didn't think Beth would have either, was just that they wanted to be together. It was lonely, being apart. Not that Daryl had ever been the sort to claim loneliness, even to himself.

But it was. And there was always that fear every time you split from someone even for even a few minutes, you might never see them again. After the prison, that was fresh in both their minds. For Daryl, losing their family had been a failure; _his_ failure. He had no intention of failing again, of losing Beth. He didn't even want to let her out of her sight, sometimes.

So when he went out for longer than just checking the perimeters, Beth usually came with him. They used the excuse of training her, showing her how to track and use his bow, but they both knew deep inside that was only part of it. They both knew they felt safer (and better) together.

Contrary to what he'd once thought, Beth wasn't the worst company. Sometimes she chattered away seemingly endlessly, but never when he asked her to be quiet, and never when they were tracking something. She was getting better at that, too. She studied every mark he showed her with absolute intent, and she remembered pretty much most of what he told her; if not the first time around than definitely the second.

She also had a way of noticing things that he didn't. While his focus seemed best for spotting animal tracks, or signs of walkers (or people), Beth saw things like flowers, or herbs, or edible berries, or...

"Mistletoe!"

Daryl slowed to a stop and looked away from the rabbit tracks he'd been following. "What?"

"Mistletoe!" She was standing under a tree, still clad in her jeans and that stained yellow shirt, with her hair pulled back into a braid. When he looked at her now, he saw her pointing up to where what looked like big round clumps of a bush were growing on the branches of the tree. He'd never seen anything like it before, but then, that wasn't the sort of thing he was usually looking for.

He crossed back over to her and tipped his head back, to look up through the branches. "What're you goin' on about, girl?"

Beth just chuckled beside him. "It's a mistletoe plant. I think it's too early for the berries, but I recognize it, still. Mama used to send us out to collect it, for Christmas. We'd put it on the wreathe, or hang it in the doorways."

Suddenly he felt her gaze on him, and when he turned he saw a soft smile on her lips as she asked, "Don't you know what mistletoe is for?"

Daryl shook his head. "Told you before, ain't much for Christmas." Well technically what he'd told her- or shouted at her- was how he'd never had gifts from Santa, but still. The truth was, he didn't have much experience with Christmas at all, which was why her answer caught him entirely off guard.

"You're supposed to kiss." There was a blush on her cheeks as she pointed up. "When you stand under mistletoe with someone, you're supposed to kiss them."

All Daryl could do was just stand there and stare up at the tree in confusion. He didn't know what else to do. He had a feeling she expected him to do something, but he didn't know what. Talk? Ask questions? Call her on her joke?

Certainly she didn't expect him to kiss her. There was no way she could expect him, Daryl Dixon, to kiss her, Beth Greene. Yet he could feel the weight of her gaze on her, like she was expecting _something_, and all Daryl could do was just stand there, staring up at the damn mistletoe, trying to somehow pull the answer out of his head, or maybe even hers.

In the end it was her soft giggle next to him that caught his attention, but before he could turn to look at her, she had leaned up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "There," she said softly. "Now come on, Mr. Dixon. Let's finish tracking this rabbit."

He was still standing there when she turned and walked away. He was still just staring up at the mistletoe and standing there, and thinking about how her lips had left a warm imprint on his cheek that didn't seem to want to fade away.


	9. Lights

On their fourth day in the cabin, Beth had gotten a little bored and decided to go rummaging through the closets. She told herself it was just to see if there were supplies, and that was partially true. The rest of it was that she was curious, and had nothing to do, and... she liked this place. She never would have said anything to Daryl, because she knew he thought this place was as temporary as everything else, but sometimes she found herself wishing they could stay here.

There was a closet in the living room that they hadn't gone through yet, except just a cursory glance through to make sure there was no food, and then once to borrow a coat. Beth was on her knees in front of it now, pulling out one of the boxes inside. "Look, photographs..." She glanced over her shoulder at Daryl, who was sitting on the floor with his back to the couch and his legs stretched out in front of him. Her rarely seemed to relax or sit still long, so she relished the sight.

When he just raised an eyebrow in question, Beth picked up the box and got to her feet, bringing it with her to sit down beside of him. It didn't even phase her anymore to sit nice and close to him. Their arms and thighs were brushing faintly, but Beth just gave him a smile as she settled the box into her lap and lifted out a photo album. "See?" The front cover had a pretty flower pattern on it, and Beth smiled as she opened it slowly.

The pictures inside were of the same couple she'd seen in a photo here their first day; a young man with dark brown hair, and a pretty red-haired woman. Most of them were at the cabin; there were pictures of it being built, pictures of them inside of it having a small party with friends and family (she assumed), pictures of just the two of them, or even cute ones of just him or her that were clearly taken by the other. There was even one of the couple down by the waterfall that Daryl had found, which made Beth smile as she tapped it.

"They were in love," she murmured, glancing up at him quickly before looking down at the photographs again. "I think this was their vacation spot. I bet... I bet it was really their favorite spot, and they wished they could live here all the time, but they had to work, you know? So they only got to come here sometimes, which made it more special." She ran her fingertips lightly over the last photo, and sighed. "I think that's really beautiful."

Daryl said nothing beside her, but after a moment she heard a faint 'mm'. If it was agreement or otherwise, she didn't know, but she'd take it for now and not question him. Beth just set the photo album aside, and continued rummaging through the box. There was a stack of loose photographs in a small box, a half-carved wooden sign that looked like it was going to say 'The Wilsons', a neatly folded up blanket, and at the very bottom, a string of Christmas lights.

"Oh! Daryl, look!" Beth tugged them out of the box and let them twine around her fingers, examining them with a soft smile on her lips. "Oh I always loved Christmas lights. I wonder if maybe they came up here for Christmas once? I bet Christmas would be beautiful, up here. All peaceful in the woods, with a crackling fire and Christmas lights and a tiny little tree..."

It was only when she glanced over at Daryl that she remembered Christmas was far from a big deal to him. She was almost worried she might make him mad, bringing it up, but he just nodded at her, as if expecting her to go on. "I used to have some of these just for my room," Beth said after a moment, still curling them through her fingers. "I'd wrap them around my headboard and turn them on at night. It was so beautiful... Kind of like the stars, you know, but in my room." Beth fiddled with the plug, and sighed. "I wish we had electricity. I know it's silly, but it'd be nice to see them one more time. I dunno."

After a long moment, she stuffed them back into the box. "It's stupid, how many little things I keep missing, randomly. I mean, it's big things, too, but at least those make sense. The little things are just... silly."

She settled everything back into the box and set the photo album gingerly on the surface. As she rose to her feet to carry it back to the closet, she heard Daryl murmur behind her, "It ain't stupid or silly. Missin' the little things... hits y' harder sometimes, cause it's so unexpected."

Beth hid her smile as she bent over and gently put the box away. "Yeah, I guess so. Cause it's so random and unexpected, and there's never anything you can do about it." She wanted to ask what little things _he_ missed, but Beth was afraid of saying the wrong thing and touching on an emotional subject. Considering how unexpectedly emotional those lights had made her, Beth didn't want to risk it.

When his only reply was another 'mm', Beth stood up and closed the closet door. "I'm gonna go upstairs for a bit. I just wanna make sure I didn't miss anything in the closet up there, okay?"

Really she just needed a minute or two to get her emotions under control. The truth was, going up there without him just felt a bit lonely. Beth only lasted about ten minutes before she gave in, closed the bedroom closet door (having found nothing but clothes inside it), and headed back downstairs. But when she rounded the base of the steps and came into the living room, she stopped short. There was a new light, flickering on the coffee table, different from the light of the fire.

Beth took a couple steps closer and then stopped when she saw it; a row of little tea-light candles, lined up and lit, flickering in a pretty little row. "What- Daryl?"

As she came around the edge of the couch, Beth saw him just sitting there in almost the same spot he had been before. He shrugged at her questioning voice, but after a moment or two he replied softly, "Ain't Christmas lights, I know, but... I thought maybe you'd like it a little. Found 'em in the kitchen the other day."

She couldn't find the words to reply, for once. Beth just drew in a slow breath and then exhaled in a soft sigh as she came around to sit beside him. Her gaze stayed on the beautiful flickering lights for a long moment, until she tipped her head to rest on his shoulder and just breathed out, "Thank you."

"S'nothing..." He sounded almost gruff, but Beth could hear the hint of pleasure in his voice and knew he was glad she'd liked it.

"No," she shook her head and smiled, "It's beautiful."

It was even more beautiful than she thought the Christmas lights had ever been.


	10. Santa

"I never had a pony, you know."

Her voice cuts in out of nowhere, but that doesn't surprise him anymore. It doesn't bother him, either, not like the first couple days after the prison, when he just wanted to sink into misery and her words were like hooks, digging into his skin and pulling him out of of that black pit inch by unwilling inch.

He did still furrow his brow every time, though, mostly because he had no idea what prompted half of Beth's random stories or conversations. Just like he had no idea what made her bring up having a pony now, of all times.

They were currently making the trek from the cabin they'd been staying in to another one he'd scouted nearby yesterday. He didn't like to go too far without her at his side, so he'd waited to check it out until he could bring her with him. They were walking through the woods now, side-by-side, and it had been silent for a few minutes before she broke in. For the record, he hadn't seen a single damn pony the whole walk, and yet there she was bringing them up.

"When we were playing I never..." Beth darted a glance over at him and then away. He was surprised, because they never really brought up that part of the night. Just the reminder had his stomach churning with guilt over the things he'd shouted at her, the same things she was bringing up now as she went on, "You said, I never had a pony, like you thought I had. But I never did. I had a horse... But not, like... Not like I was some spoiled brat who got a horse as a gift or something."

He found himself considering interjecting, telling her that despite the shit he'd flung at her, he didn't actually think she'd been spoiled, like that. Compared to him, she just had what seemed like a spoiled sort of life. A family, and a home, and Christmas, and fucking ponies, and whatever else pretty girls like her probably got growing up. But before he could even think of finding the right words, she was carrying on.

"My horse, her name was Patsy. After Patsy Cline? She was a singer. You know... _I go out walkin', after midnight, out in the moonlight, just like we used to do, I'm always walkin', after midnight, searchin' for you..._" Beth seemed to be keeping her voice soft, so as to not draw anything to them, but it was still enough to have him unexpectedly mesmerized for a moment until she broke off. There was just something about her damn voice that always pulled him in, even if he tried his best to act like he didn't care.

Daryl cleared his throat and nodded, and that seemed enough to have her going on. "I raised her. Daddy let me be there, when her mama Rosie had her, and he told me she could be mine, but only if I took care of her. I must have been like ten, when she was born. But I raised her from a baby, or well, I helped her mama raise her, anyway. But I weaned her, and I taught her how to wear a halter, and a lead, and I was the first one to ride her, too. We were real close. She was a _good_ horse."

The look of pain in her eyes for just a moment made Daryl frown, and again he felt a surge of anger for himself at lashing out at her that way. Treating her like she was some 'dumb college bitch', some girl who'd been gifted a pretty little pony when that was far from the truth. Though he couldn't find the words to express it out loud, he admired her for raising the horse like that. Daryl hadn't ever even raised a goldfish, then again, his family hadn't been the pet kind by far.

They walked along in silence again, until Beth cast him a sidelong glance. "Nelly was her older sister." She flashed him a hint of a smile. "You remember Nelly? She was the horse you rode on. The skittish one. She was _Maggie's_ horse." Beth stuck her chin up with a hint of pride, and added, "Patsy _never_ would've thrown you over a _snake_. She was too good for that."

He chuckled at that, cause he just couldn't help it. "That damn horse spooked like it was her job, or somethin'."

Beth's giggle cut through the air, hooking on something deep inside of him that he couldn't pinpoint. A smile even flickered at the corner of his mouth for a moment, before he sensed a shift in the girl beside him. Sure enough, her voice was softer as she asked, "Have you really never gotten gifts from Santa, Daryl?"

So that was how she'd gotten onto the subject of ponies. She'd been walking next to him, thinking of all the things he'd said he'd never had, like a pony or frozen yogurt, or Santa, and the horse had just been her way of bringing up how sad his life had been. His gut clenched and he shook his head roughly. "No. And don't you go feelin' sorry for me. Don't need no pity party, y'hear?"

"Daryl! I-" The regret (and faint hint of pain) in her voice was too much for him when he was filled with the memories she'd dragged up of his childhood, and the things he'd shouted at her that night. He shoved away the voice in the back of his mind that tried to tell him Beth wouldn't bring something up like that just to pity him, or even just to be sad over it. That wasn't who Beth was, and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"C'mon," he said roughly, pushing past her to point out the somewhat run-down cabin up ahead. "Get your knife out, Greene, we gotta clear this place. And don't fall back."

He thought she'd put the conversation behind them. She hadn't mentioned it the rest of the day, though the guilt he'd felt at snapping at her a bit had settled low in his gut and refused to let go. It was like it had grown little claws and dug them into his stomach, twisting every time he remembered her perfectly sweet, careful voice and the way he'd just snapped in response.

It turned out she hadn't forgotten, but he didn't realize it until the next morning.

Beth had taken second watch, and he'd actually slept, which could be a rarity these days. Usually he was too much on edge, or the nightmares kept him awake, or he just plain couldn't sleep. Tonight, though, after Beth had cooked up the squirrels they'd caught, and he'd spent four hours keeping watch with her curled up warm and close to him, sleep had taken him easy.

At first when he woke up, he didn't realize what he was seeing. He'd fallen asleep with his back to the arm of the sofa, his legs stretched out on the floor to the side of the coffee table. When he'd drifted off after his watch, the coffee table had been empty, but as the sun shining though the window coaxed him awake, he realized that the surface of it wasn't empty anymore.

With a grunt, Daryl leaned forward to try and get a better look; it took a few blinks before the sight became clear. It was a stocking. One of the same fluffy red and green striped ones that Beth had so exuberantly put onto her feet a couple days ago, only this one wasn't on her foot (obviously), and it also wasn't empty. Confused, he reached out to pick up the small square of torn-off paper that was set just in front of the sock on the table. In curly, neat handwriting was written:

_**To**__: Daryl Dixon_  
><em><strong>From<strong>__: Santa_

He looked around the room, but Beth was nowhere in sight. Any other morning he might have been worried, but he knew from the handwriting on the paper that she was around. Maybe she was giving him space, though if she was, he couldn't help wondering if it was to let him open whatever the present was in peace, or to avoid any potential lashing out he might do. All things considered, she'd probably figured both were options.

Instead of lashing out though, Daryl slowly dragged the stocking over to himself and pulled it into his lap. He sat there for several minutes just staring at it; the red and green so bright against his dark, dirty jeans. So bright and _clean_, sort of like Beth was. It was the thought of her (and this being from her) that got Daryl to finally reach into the stocking and pull out the contents.

It isn't much, but he could tell just from looking at it all that she had gone to an effort to find each thing. Maybe she'd even been collecting some of it longer than he'd realized; possibly even since that night they'd burned the cabin down together. There was a sprig of mistletoe at the very top, which made a faint smile cross his lips at the remembrance of the warmth of lips on his cheek. The second thing he pulled out was a picture of the waterfall. She must have found it in the stack in that box from the closet; unlike the one they'd seen int he album, there were no people in it. All that was in the picture was the little pond and the waterfall behind it, and if he closed his eyes he could almost just see her, lit up by moonlight and lifting her hands to let the water trickle over her fingers.

The third thing he pulled out made him laugh out loud, low and rough before he stifled it. It was a tiny green elf hat. It looked like she'd sewed it, maybe out of t-shirt fabric and the spare little sewing kit they'd found in the bathroom their first day here. There was even a little white pom-pom on top that looked like half a cotton-ball to him. He stuck two fingers into the hat and held it up, remembering the way she'd laughed when he jokingly called her elf cause she was too damn short to reach anything.

Daryl reached in a fourth time and pulled out three cigarettes, tied together with some red thread in a little bow. As far as he could tell, the cigs weren't even from the same brand, which meant she'd been collecting them here and there, maybe as they made runs and cleared out cabins and houses. She must have been collecting them for days, or longer. Since the moonshine cabin. The funniest part to him was that he knew she thought it was kinda gross, his smoking, and yet she'd collected them for him anyway. Cause she knew he liked them, knew he missed being able to smoke whenever he wanted to.

There was one thing left in the stocking that Daryl could feel, and he almost didn't want to pull it out. A part of him just wanted to leave it to know it was just right in there, waiting... for him. It was a feeling he didn't think he'd ever had before. Realizing that, and remembering it was Beth that gave it to him, was what encouraged him to reach in and pull out the last little gift. The moment he saw it, he didn't know what to say or do. It just settled into his hand, resting right against the lines of his palm as he just stared down at it; a tiny, miniature black motorcycle. Not exactly like Merle's bike, but similar enough to bring back memories as he looked at it in bafflement, wondering where the hell she'd found it and how long she'd had it; how long she'd been saving it to give to him.

He was still sitting there ten minutes later staring down at that damn toy bike, when he finally heard her soft tread on the stairs and her light voice calling out, "Good morning."

After a low grunt, Daryl managed to get out, "Mornin'." The stocking and it's contents rested in his lap and he sat there with his hand outstretched, still watching the little miniature motorcycle in his palm.

He heard her rather than saw her; her soft footsteps behind him, her gentle breathing, the faint shush of her hair sliding against her back as she leaned over the side of the couch to look down at him. "Guess we had a visitor, last night."

"Mm."

There was just silence, and then Beth came around beside him and set down behind the coffee table. Her legs stretched out underneath it, and her arm brushed lightly against his as she looked down at the motorcycle in his hand. Her finger traced lightly over it, grazing his palm in the process, but all Daryl could do was just stay like that, hand open, watching as she delicately drew her finger across the little metal toy.

"Santa wanted me to tell you something." Her voice was almost a whisper, and though he didn't look at her, he could sense her eyes on him. "He said he's sorry. Sometimes, it takes him a really, really long time to find the good boys. He said he knew this wasn't much, but... He hoped it would make up for some of what you missed out on."

Finally, Daryl curled his fingers over the motorcycle in his hand and leaned into her just enough to press their shoulders together. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper so quiet that only she'd be able to hear. "It does." He sighed, as his leg shifted to brush just lightly against hers. "If y' see him again... tell him I said thanks."

"I'll try," Beth said softly, her head tipping to rest on his shoulder. "But Santa doesn't do things like this for thanks."

"No?"

"No. He just likes to give people the happiness they've always deserved, even if they always thought they didn't."

His only reply was a grunt, but as his fingers curled around the bike and squeezed it tight, Daryl briefly let him consider that maybe, things like Christmas weren't so bad.

At least, if he had Beth Greene around.


	11. Sleigh

As with so many of the places that Beth had come to think of as home (or at least home-like), their time at the cabin didn't last. The night after Beth had given Daryl his first gifts from Santa, she had been awoken by his hand sliding over her mouth as he whispered her name in her ear: "_Beth. Wake up._" All it took was a soft 'stay quiet', and she was awake and wide-eyed, every inch of her tense. Two more seconds and she'd heard the sounds of voices out the front of the cabin ("Gotta be someone in there, see the smoke from the chimney?" "Shit, I hope at least one of 'ems a girl. Been too long since I saw anything better than your ugly muh."); ten more seconds after that and she had slipped her feet into her boots and was on her feet ready to run.

After everything Beth felt the cabin had given them, it almost hurt a little to not get to say a proper goodbye. Of course, a bit of emotional pain was always preferable to the possibility of whatever the men that had found their cabin might have been tempted to do to her, or to the pair of them. Still, it hurt that in the end, the only goodbye she'd managed to get was one brush of her fingers over the frame of the back door as they slipped out, bags and weapons in hand, and darted into the woods to leave the cabin behind.

They walked in silence the whole night, the reminder of the rough voices like hounds on their tails chasing them away, until the sun was just beginning to lighten the sky. Only then did Beth glance over at Daryl and sigh. "I thought maybe this time... I dunno. I thought maybe we would get to stay longer. That it would last."

"Ain't much that lasts anymore, these days."

A part of her knew he was right, but there was another part of her that still resisted; that would _always_ resist that. "I don't think that's true. I think some things last. They're rare, but maybe that only makes them better."

When she glanced over at him, Daryl almost seemed to be considering her words. He didn't reply, but she hadn't expected him to. "Look," she said, pointing up ahead. "I think there's a farmhouse up there, through the woods. I can see a barn..."

He grunted, but she noticed the slight shift in direction that indicated he would head towards it. "Gotta be careful," he said, with a quick glance behind them, "Don't know who might be around."

"That's why I pointed it out," she said softly. "I was trying to think like you. I figured we might wanna hide away for a bit. At least for the day, in case they come looking." She looked up at the sky full of dark gray clouds. "It's gonna rain. Won't that wipe away our tracks?"

For just a second, she saw a little hint of a smile cross his lips. "Yeah. Good point."

A bit flushed with pride, Beth strode through the woods beside him until they rounded the edge of the farm. Here they turned cautious once more, Daryl with his bow raised and Beth with her knife clutched in her hand as they slowly came around the side of the barn to peer at the house.

"Windows broken. Doors open. Bet no one's hiding in there. Not alive, anyway" He looked down the length of the barn, studying it carefully. "But I'd go with this instead. Less place for walkers to hide, and if those people come looking..."

Beth narrowed her eyes, trying to think like him again."They'd figure we'd try the house, right?" She nodded, and then looked up. "Plus we could hide up high, if they came. Isn't that, like... More defend-able?"

Daryl chuckled, but gave her a little nod. "C'mon, Greene. Let's check out this defend-able barn."

The inside was pretty much what Beth would have expected. In fact it was almost eerily similar to her old barn back home; enough so that she got choked up a bit and came to a stop in the doorway, before Daryl gently nudged her from behind.

Though she wouldn't admit it, his presence reassured her, enough that she felt better moving with him through the open space, ignoring the familiar old scent of hay and animals as they cleared the entire barn.

No walkers in sight, but when Beth peeked into a little section at the back her eyes lit up at what she found. "Daryl!" She exclaimed, hurrying through the archway. "It's a sleigh!"

She had already hopped into the backseat, when he came to stand in the doorway. "Pretty sure that's a carriage."

"What?"

He leaned against the door frame and gestured with one hand. "S'got big wheels. Sleighs don't got wheels."

Beth peered over the edge at the big wheels with a 'huh', before settling back into the seat. "Well I don't care, I'm calling it a sleigh. Maybe it's Santa's sleigh, for when he has to go on the roads instead, hm?" She looked over at him with a shy smile, a warmth entering her gaze with the memory of yesterday morning and the stocking she'd left him. She still had Christmas on the brain, and with the loss of the cabin fresh in her mind, she was gonna cling to that.

Daryl didn't say anything, but he didn't draw away, either. Eventually he came up alongside the sleigh and peered in curiously, silent for a few moments before he murmured gruffly, "You got a big imagination, Greene." He grunted. "But I guess it ain't a bad place to sleep."

With that, he hopped into the seat in front of her, and bent over to rummage around. When he came back up, he had a thick blanket in hand that he handed back to her over the seat. "Here. Finish the rest you were gettin', before we were interrupted."

Though she took the blanket from him and even settled it on her lap, Beth didn't really feel sleepy. Instead, as she laid back in the seat and used her bag as a pillow, Beth mused, "My Mama always used to say I had a big imagination, you know. Like... I went _all_ out with Santa."

As she always did when she started a story, Beth paused to make sure he didn't want her to stop. It was easy to tell, nowadays. A sigh or a groan meant he wasn't in the mood, but an 'mm' like the one he gave her right now meant he didn't mind if she kept going. With a faint smile, Beth went on, "Once I was old enough, I _insisted_ on baking cookies for Santa myself. Always sugar, with red and green sprinkles, because I'd decided that was his favorite. And I got it into my head that he only liked fresh milk, so I'd milk it myself from one of our dairy cows and put it in a special glass for him. And I always laid it out on the coffee table by the tree, on a special red and green plate we used for Christmas."

If she closed her eyes, Beth could see it all in her mind. The sparkling Christmas lights, glinting on the ornaments that had been collected for generations or made by hand by Maggie, Shawn, and Beth every year prior. She could see the hand-made popcorn garlands, the stockings hanging on the mantle, the perfectly arranged plate of (slightly lopsided) cookies, the glass of milk.

It only hurt a little, to remember that perfection and know she'd never see it again.

"One year I was determined to stay up and see him," Beth went on, her voice softer and a bit sadder, though she tried to push past it. "I hid on the stairs and tried to stay up all night. I thought I was so clever, but I ended up falling asleep for what I swear was just like ten minutes. I woke up to my mom carrying me up the stairs, but I was convinced for _years_ after that when I peered over her shoulder, I saw Santa crouched down by the tree, setting up the presents. I told _everyone_ that story, a hundred times over."

She drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "It wasn't till I was older that I figured out it must have been Daddy. Can't blame me for thinking it was Santa, though... Daddy had white hair even then, and he must have been wearing a red sweater, or something" Beth pressed her eyes shut. "I believed for years after that, you know? And he never once told me that it was him. Not even after I stopped believing in Santa. He always just let me keep that one tiny little moment."

Suddenly her eyes were burning and she broke off to press her hand across her face. Beth bit down on her lip, but she didn't cry. She never cried anymore... No, that wasn't true. She'd cried watching her Daddy die. She'd cried and cried and screamed for him, but it hadn't brought him back. The man who had let her believe in Santa was gone, forever. _Daddy, Daddy, Daddy_.

Beth wasn't even aware her shaking was noticeable, until she felt Daryl suddenly lifting her up off the seat. "C'mon," he said, his voice rough but in a different way than usual, as if it were masking something she couldn't pinpoint. He had her sitting up as he slid in next to her on the seat and then, to her surprise, guided her back down so she was resting with her head in his lap. Just the sight of him above her was enough to shock her out of trembling and shaking so that instead she was blinking up at him with wide, bright eyes.

"Don't you know there ain't no cryin' in Santa's sleigh?" Daryl looked down at her and raised an eyebrow until she felt a tremulous smile cross her lips. "Better," he said roughly.

He reached down and picked up the blanket that had slipped off her, his hands unexpectedly gentle as he settled it back across her lower body. "Now c'mon. You've been up and movin' all night, y'need to get some rest."

She was just too drained to protest anymore, so with one little shuddering sigh Beth let her eyes flutter shut. But as the warmth of his lap lulled her gently to sleep, Beth could swear that she felt his fingers brush lightly over her hair for just a second.

It was enough to put the faintest smile on her lips before sleep claimed her.


	12. Glow

Since last night, when Beth had almost had what Daryl could only assume was a near-breakdown in the back of that sleigh, she'd been unusually quiet. It was funny really, that her silence could bother him now, when just a few weeks ago her chattering had threatened to drive him round the bend.

At least he was pretty sure this silence wasn't the awful sort. It wasn't the silence that had followed their escape from the prison, when even he could see the emotions like a rising tide of darkness inside of her, threatening to break her down. It wasn't an angry silence, either. He of all people knew angry silence, and this wasn't it; there wasn't heat simmering under the surface of that pale skin, or darkening her blue eyes.

In a way, her silence almost seemed peaceful, and yet _not quite_. He had a feeling the 'not quite' was a sadness that was lingering in the wake of last night, in the memories of her lost father, and maybe because of the loss of the cabin as well. He hadn't said anything, but he'd known that Beth had secretly wanted to stay there even before she'd told him yesterday. She hadn't voice the desire out loud while they were staying there, but she hadn't really needed to. She had been beginning bit by bit to settle into it, to turn it into home in a way only she seemed able to, only to find herself yet again jolted quickly out.

As he walked silently beside her, Daryl found himself wishing he could have held that place for her. At the time, he had known he couldn't risk it. One glimpse out the window at those tough sonofabitches headed for the cabin, and all he could think about was the girl curled up inside, wrapped up in the blanket by the fire and looking like a goddamn angel or some shit. He couldn't even think of risking her safety. Keeping her safe was not just his _job_, in his mind, but also something he felt he needed to do, even _wanted_ to do.

Of course, in retrospect, a part of him still wished he could have saved it. Beth was strong enough to manage, out here in the woods, constantly moving. But a girl like her deserved better than this. She deserved a snug little house and a warm fireplace, and a better place to sleep than the cold hard ground. It frustrated him that he hadn't been able to give her that, and it fueled a desire in him to at least find a way to give her_something_. Anything.

(Especially considering a small part of him was full conscious of the stocking tucked away into his bag, still holding the little gifts she had worked so hard to give him. Daryl wasn't the kind of person that could make gestures like that; at least not so perfectly. But some part of him wanted to try, even if it was just in his own way.)

"Was thinkin'..." Daryl broke roughly into the silence, hesitating until he saw Beth glance over at him. "Could maybe do some more trainin', tomorrow." He paused a second and his shoulders shifted under his vest, his head ducking to look at the ground in an attempt to look casual as he added, "Maybe y'could try my bow, again. If y' want."

The silence lasted just long enough for him to risk a look up at her from under the long fringe of his dark hair, but it was worth it when he saw the faint smile on her lips as she asked, "Really?"

"Mm." He nodded, biting back the urge to tease that it wasn't like he was gonna offer it, then take it back. He'd probably have just come off as mean, like he would have to anyone else. At least, that was what he told himself. It was easier to pretend she might get upset than to admit that she could read him like a book sometimes; that she'd probably know immediately that he wasn't being a dick, he was being playful with her instead. The truth was that Daryl wasn't sure he was ready for her to know he was tempted to be playful and teasing with her.

Beth's step seemed to perk up a bit at his agreement; she had been lagging a step or two behind, but she was right beside him now with a smile on her lips as she teased, "Just you wait, I'm gonna get so good at your bow."

Daryl gave a low chuckle. "We'll see."

"Yeah," she grinned at him, and lord did it feel good to see that light in her eyes again, pushing away that quiet sadness, "You'll see."

It took a few seconds before he realized he was basking in the brightness of her smile. Like she was the sun, glowing at him, and he was just soaking it up. Daryl cleared his throat and looked away. Merle would have teased the shit out of him, if he'd caught him looking like _that_, especially at a girl like her.

"C'mon," he said roughly, gesturing through the woods ahead. "Suns setting soon. Gotta find a place to stop for th' night. See if you can find us somethin' good, Greene."

In the end, she did surprisingly well, picking out a small clearing amid a circle of trees. Their usual camp ritual was practically habit by now, even after the brief time they'd spent in the cabin. He had gone to set up their little makeshift tent, while she'd strung up the cans around the small campsite, and then as she worked on starting a fire, he'd gone looking for dinner; though he'd been careful not to stray too far from her today. Just in case.

Dinner had been a single squirrel tonight, but with the added can of beans he'd had stashed in his bag, it wasn't so bad. He'd given the bigger share to Beth, same as he always did, and if she'd noticed she hadn't said anything. She didn't say much of anything, before and after they ate, she'd just sat across the fire from him and worked her way through her food.

He'd thought (worried, really, though he wouldn't have admitted it), that maybe she'd not want to sit too close to him tonight the way she had been at the cabin, the way she had been last night in the sleigh. Maybe she'd decide she wanted space, again. Maybe that was what her silence meant, now. But then the sun set and the darkness settled around them, and there was Beth, wrapped up in their only blanket and coming up beside him where he sat with his back to a tree.

He said nothing, but neither did she. Her side pressed lightly against his, and slowly but surely he felt her settling in closer until her head was resting lightly on his shoulder. It was getting to the point where her closeness didn't even surprise him, to be honest. Didn't bother him, either, despite the fact that if it had been anyone else, Daryl wouldn't have even let them get this close.

He could sense her falling into that earlier silence again, just enough for Daryl's mind to start searching for ways to bring that smile back to her lips. Before he could come up with something on his own, though, nature seemed to do it for him.

"Look." Daryl lifted his arm and pointed a flicker of light coming towards them, hovering in the air across from them. He felt Beth perk up curiously beside him, and his voice stayed soft as he murmured in explanation, "Fireflies."

Beth drew in a slow, surprised little breath and then exhaled it in a sigh of, "Oh... Oh, I haven't seen fireflies in so long, Daryl."

"Me either." He watched as a few more flickered into view, coming out of the bushes to hover around their extinguished fire. Beth just seemed content to drink them in for a long moment; her head slowly came to rest back on his shoulder, but when he glanced down at her she was riveted to the sight of the glowing little lights swirling through the air in front of them.

"They remind me of Christmas lights," Beth breathed out. He could see the moment something changed in her face, when something knew flashed into her mind, and he knew exactly what she was remembering. There was a smile on her face again and Daryl knew without a doubt that it was for him, and that night when he'd lit the candles for her. He didn't even know if he was worthy of a smile like that, but he wasn't gonna complain.

"They're better," he said with a nod to the fireflies. "Natural."

(They were a natural beauty, he thought, but he didn't dare speak beyond a whisper in his mind: _Like her_.)

One fluttered close to them, hovering in front of their faces, and the thought popped into Daryl's mind to catch it and enclose it in his hands and offer it as a gift to her. Before he could even move, though, Beth was reaching out and gently scooping the little bug into her hands.

Unlike him, she didn't hold it tight or close in her hands. She let her fingers part, just enough for the light to shine through the gaps. Daryl was unexpectedly riveted to the sight of her hands filled with that flickering glow that washed across her face, casting it in a pale, almost angelic light; as if she needed anything to make her look _more_ like the sort of pure being that Daryl had no right being so close to.

Merle would have squashed the bug in his hands with a chuckle, just like that. Daryl might have too, at least if his brother had been there to see him. But not Beth. She opened her hands and held them up flat, and as the glowing bug gently floated up from her palms, she just watched it with pure joy and _laughed_.

In that moment, awash in the glow of the firefly that lit up her face almost as much as her smile did, Beth really was akin to an angel. She had a way about her, a light that penetrated even into the darkness that seemed to fill Daryl, darkness that had only grown in the wake of the prison. Darkness that had threatened to consume him until that night at the moonshine shack, when she'd wedged her way into it, creating the tiniest of cracks in that dark wall, just enough to set flame to his memories of the past wedged deeply inside.

Sitting there watching her, all he could do was drink in that light and hope that maybe, just maybe, he might find a way to let some more of that light inside him, somehow. That he might be worthy.

But if he couldn't have some of it for himself, Daryl knew he'd do anything to keep that light safe. _Anything_. Even if he had to chase down hell itself.

He had no way of knowing that soon, he would do just that. Right now, all he could see was Beth Greene, awash in a firefly glow, and looking up at him with a smile he didn't even care to wonder if he deserved or not.


End file.
